A/N: Sorry these next two sections are a bit shorter! They work best as individual scenes, so deserve their own chapters.

Appendix D

Section J

Alex, Age 18

The Dam Breaks

"Well, I suppose this is it. We have to tell Alex what's going on," Sam murmured as he and Dean entered the bunker.

"No reason to hide now," said Dean. "Let me change first. Bad news is always a little easier to take when there's less blood."

"No kidding," said Sam.

Dean headed down the hall and Sam went to the kitchen sink to give a cold water rinse to his shirt-turned-bandage.

In his room, Dean pulled off his outer shirt, a movement that made him wince as he tweaked at his stitches. He barely noticed what he was doing as he threw the bloodied garment onto a nearby chair; his mind was whirring numbly. How am I going to break this to Alex? What's the gentlest way to tell her that her dead boyfriend and his family are haunting the house where they were all brutally murdered? Is there a gentle way?

He didn't get a chance to mull over the right approach. Alex appeared in the doorway to his bedroom.

"Hey, you're back!"

Dean whirled on the spot, surprised by her sudden presence.

"Have you seen my—oh my God, Dad!" Alex was quick to notice the substantial bloodstain on her father's T-shirt. She stepped farther into the room, gesturing at the injury. "Is that a gunshot wound? You said you were just going into town! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean reassured her. "It's just a small… hole. It didn't hit anything."

"Uh, it hit something," Alex snapped. "What happened? Were you hunting without me? What the hell! Why didn't you want me with? Or at least let me know where you were going so I could… say goodbye or be on standby! Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Dean shut his eyes momentarily. This was not how he had wanted her to find out what had happened. "We didn't want to tell you until we were sure about what was going on."

Sam walked up to the doorway then, having heard the yelling. "Oh, no," he breathed.

"'What was going on'?" Alex repeated, confused. "What kind of hunt would you need to hide from me until you figured out—," Alex's breath caught in her throat. She had been leaning forward to enhance her emphatic gesturing, but now she stood up very straight and took several steps back. Her arms dropped to her sides and her eyes went wide. A cold chill ran through her whole body, as if her insides had turned into a cascade of ice water.

She had figured it out.

Dean met her stunned gaze with sympathy. In the midst of his regret at this turn, he felt a tinge of bitter pride; she was too damn smart. He had barely given a hint and she had made the connection. For one foolish second, he wished she was a little more oblivious so he could have eased her into the news. But the reality was she had beaten him to the punch and there was nothing he could have done to keep her from discovering the truth in one of the worst ways possible. Then to see her have such a physical reaction made the shock and pain she was experiencing horribly tangible, and it felt like the phantom bullet had gone through his heart instead.

"Sit down, Alex," he said softly, moving toward his bed.

"No." Alex was breathless. She took a single step backwards, rotating over one shoulder and shifting her unseeing gaze ever so slightly down.

Dean walked over to his daughter and put an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, baby girl. It's time to face this."

She didn't offer much resistance as he guided her to the bed and sat her down beside him. Sam came and seated himself on her other side.

"He's back." Alex didn't even wait for an explanation.

Dean nodded. "They're all back."

"They're all back…," she whispered, as if she had to repeat his words to process their meaning. Then her tone turned cold, "Which one of them shot you?"

"Logan's mom. Jane," said Dean.

If Alex felt a reaction to hearing her boyfriend's name for the first time since his funeral, she didn't show it.

"Logan's not vengeful," said Sam. "I spoke with him and—,"

"You spoke with him?" asked Alex, her head snapping around to look at her uncle.

"Yeah, I spoke with him," Sam repeated gently. "He needs justice, but he's not killing to get it. He actually helped a little boy escape."

Alex's brow furrowed. "What little boy? What did he escape from?"

"Jane and Don shot the boy's parents," said Dean. There was no point in mincing words, and he knew she wouldn't appreciate it if he did. "That's how we knew something was going on at their old place. This family had just moved in. The way Jane and Don's ghosts behaved today, I would guess the victims tried to get into the basement."

Alex turned to her father, confused. "The basement?"

"They had a hidden door to their basement," said Dean. "When I went to open it, Jane and Don appeared and… reacted."

"And shot you," Alex added.

Dean nodded reluctantly. "And shot me."

"So we'll have to…," Alex gathered her will, looking at nothing again, "…dig them up and salt and burn them."

"We're going tonight," Sam confirmed.

"Alex, do not feel any obligation to go with us," said Dean. "You don't have to put yourself through that."

"I'm coming with," said Alex sharply, almost angry in her determination.

Dean gave another slow nod. "If that's what you have to do…."

They waited quietly, watching Alex grapple with the information. Her whole body seemed to be tensing and relaxing almost imperceptibly, and her eyes searched the wall opposite the bed. Her breath was so short and silent, neither of the brothers were sure she was breathing at all.

At last, with a strained voice, she said, "Can I… can I see him before we burn him?"

"We're not going to burn him," said Sam. "We're just going to take care of Jane and Don. We think we can talk Logan into crossing over."

Alex's head bobbed ever so slightly in acknowledgement. "Okay then…."

Tears began to pour out of her eyes. She was clearly struggling to keep them from falling, so hard it made her face turn red. Her expression and posture were nearly the same, but she had begun to shake all over as she fought to contain her emotions. The dam was about to break, and Dean knew it was time to pull the last plug.

He put a comforting hand on her back.

"Stop fighting it, baby girl," he said.

Alex finally released her pent up breath in a barking sob, her eyes shutting tight as her head fell forward. Dean pulled her in close as she wept.

At first she couldn't even tell what she was thinking or feeling. Whatever it was, it hurt. She tried as hard as she could to focus solely on the warmth coming from her father's body: bury herself in it, let it shield her from every evil in the world, block everything else out. Perhaps if she only listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat in her ear, the pain would go away….

It didn't work.

In spite of her efforts, her mind brought her back, walking into Logan's bedroom and seeing his body on the floor. For some reason, hearing he was a ghost made her fabricate a different image; his death echo. She had never allowed herself to picture what had happened to him; she'd shut off every thought around him as quickly as possible before even exiting his room. But now she saw his murder clearly and exactly, as if she had been an eyewitness. She heard the gunshot, saw the blood spurt out of his chest, his body convulsing as he was hit, saw him crumple to the carpet. She knew this wasn't what she would encounter when she went to the house—he was an actual ghost, not a death echo—but nonetheless it was the scene that played out again and again in her mind's eye.

What was she really going to see when she went back there? What would he look like? How would he behave? Some ghosts were so wrapped up in their demise they were completely incomprehensible, and some acted like they had never died. Would he even be the Logan she remembered? And if he was… would she want that? Could she stand to see him again after loosing him so suddenly and violently? Just to have him disappear into the afterlife for good?

But it was the very last bit of him, his last appearance on Earth.

"I have to see him," she whispered.

"You will," said Dean.

"And you know, Alex," said Sam, taking hold of one of her hands, "I think he wants to see you, too."